Diadem Lost
by whitetiger91
Summary: He still had a chance. If he could find her mother's diadem then maybe, just maybe, he could redeem himself; he could help Helena move on and give her a second chance at life, or rather, a better afterlife.


**Diadem Lost**

 **(Searching for Hope)**

 _ **This fic** **was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 10. For this round, we were given a list of minor characters who appeared either as ghosts or portraits. As Beater 1, my character was The Bloody Baron.**_

 _ **Optional prompts:**_

 _ **(word) confined**_

 _ **(word) history**_

 _ **(quote) 'Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.' - Emily Bronte [Used a theme, in which the Baron is too proud to give up, as well as Helena's pride in not forgiving (or loving in the first place) the Baron ultimately causing the permanent loss of the diadem...]**_

 _ **Word count: 2996 words (according to Gdocs, which it was typed on, and —I don't have access to Word at the moment, unfortunately).**_

 ** _Unfortunately, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make a Bloody Baron fic as original as I would've liked (given that most people have posted about him wanting redemption—all brilliantt fics from great writers, though). The relationship between the Bloody Baron (according to the Potter wiki, his name is Waldo in Welsh versions of the books) and Helena Ravenclaw seems to be inextricably linked as it is... Think about it, his entire ghost existence is because he killed himself after killing his crush. Hence, I stuck with this fic (rather than the other I wrote for the comp, 'I Don't Need a Friend'): why fight it, right? Furthermore, in the movie, Helena apparently knew the Diadem was tainted with Dark magic, and wanted it destroyed, but this is based on the books, where she knew nothing of Riddle's involvement other than his wanting to search for it. I do not own Harry's dialogue in this, which is taken from the 7th book._**

 ** _I hope you enjoy this tale, nevertheless. A huge thank you to GilGalen from the Ballycastle Bats for taking the time to read both alternate fics and reviewing; even though you're on a rival time, I appreciate your help and sportsmanship so much! A huge thank you to my co-mods on the Diagon Alley II forum as well for helping me decide._**

 ** _Thank you to my betas, Arty and Cara, for your help._ _This fic is dedicated to our captain, The Lady Arturia, for her recent Judge's Pick and being a valuable team member :)_**

* * *

 **May 2, 1998**

Screams reverberated through the castle, echoing those coming from the school grounds. As Waldo glided through the dark corridor, sword drawn and chains rattling behind him, he found it difficult to tell if the screams were from friend or foe. All he knew was that the bloodthirsty scoundrels were gaining ground, and he would be damned if he let them invade his castle.

He could hear excited voices around the corner and headed in that direction, slashing his sword through the air. Although he would not be able to physically slay the owners of the voices, he would be able to give them a good scare if they were enemies, or a good talking to if they were allies wasting precious time lollygagging.

"I know what the diadem looks like, and I know where it is!"

It was probably a good thing that he wasn't solid, for Waldo might've suffered more than a few bruises as he ran into the stone wall. He passed through it unscathed and landed a few meters from the speakers. His mind whirred as he straightened himself and stared at the raven-haired youth before him, green eyes alight as he spoke to his two comrades.

Diadem? Did the boy really just say diadem?

Neither the boy nor his friends seemed to notice that Waldo was floating there, and the boy continued speaking. "He hid it exactly where I hid my old Potions book, where everyone's been hiding stuff for centuries..."

If his heart could still beat, Waldo was sure it would be racing now. Yes, he was positive the boy had said diadem, and better yet, that he knew where it was. If the boy was not lying, then it meant that he still had hope; that perhaps maybe, just maybe, he would be able to set his beloved Helena free and give her a second chance at life—or at least, a better afterlife.

At that moment, explosions occurring on floors above caused the ceiling and walls to tremble. Dust floated from the ceiling through Waldo's body, causing an itch within him that he could not scratch. The youths in front of him gasped, and with a nod from the raven-haired boy, they took off at a run.

Ignoring his discomfort, Waldo followed them, determined to make sure he did not lose another chance to make everything alright.

* * *

 _ **January 12, 1182**_

"Lady Helena, please, just a moment of your time…"

"Time? Ha! I think you've taken more than enough of that."

"My dearest Helena—"

"Enough, Baron, do not follow me."

Waldo held out a bouquet of flowers, hoping Helena would accept them. Instead, she continued to glide up the narrow staircase, head held high and long hair swishing behind her back.

"Lady Helena, I do insist you allow me to apologise."

"Oh? Will you lose your temper again if I do not?" Helena turned to face him. Placing a hand on her cloak, she moved it aside.

Waldo bit his tongue, his gaze travelling away from the fiery glint in her silver eyes to the small, round stain on her robes—the place where he had stabbed her and caused the life to drain from her.

"I tire of your attempts to apologise, Baron. Leave me in pea—"

"Oh, pardon me. I was wondering if perhaps I could have a word with the Grey Lady?" a squeaky voice interrupted.

Helena hurriedly put her robes back in place, covering her wound. Waldo rounded on the young boy who had followed them up the staircase to the Astronomy Tower, the boy's cheeks pink and chest heaving. Any chance Waldo had of apologising to Helena had passed because of the boy's interruption, and he found himself wanting to grab his sword. The red of the boy's tunic identified him as a student of the late Godric Gryffindor, which only irked him more.

"Do you mind, lad? I ought to cut out your tongue; perhaps then you will realise when you should or should not speak."

The boy looked up at him with wide eyes and took a step back. He did not leave, however, and looked at Helena.

"Go on, young one; the Baron was not saying anything I hadn't heard every day for the last two centuries," she said.

Waldo scowled. He could not deny that what Helena said was true. Every day, without fail, he gathered flowers in the hope of gaining her forgiveness for condemning her to an afterlife confined in the castle.

The boy gave her a quick smile, straightening his back. "Well, I want to be a knight one day, because I am brave and daring, you know. And knights go on quests, you see..."

"I am afraid I can only help with gaining knowledge, not quests," Helena said, resuming her course back up the staircase.

The boy followed her, even as Waldo shot him a fierce glare. "Yes, exactly, and that is was I need: knowledge. I need to know how to slay my enemies and vanquish evil. I heard that Lady Ravenclaw once had a crown that could help with that. As you two seem to have a lot in common, I thought you'd know where it is."

Waldo coughed. He knew how much Helena detested her mother; she was sure to resent that statement.

Instead of giving the boy a good talking to, however, Helena shook her head. "I cannot tell you where the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw is. It is lost to me—," she shook her head, "—to Hogwarts forever, where it should rightfully be."

There was a sadness in her normally calm voice, and when she turned to face the boy, Waldo could see the pain etched in her eyes. Was the diadem was more important to her than he had realised?

"If you'll forgive me, I must leave."

"But—"

"Go, now," Waldo interrupted, shooing the youth with his hands.

The boy pouted, but when Waldo moved to take out his sword, the boy took off, shouting, "I'll duel you one day!"

Waldo ignored him, an idea forming in his mind, and glided up after Helena.

"Lady Helena—"

"Leave me in peace."

"Lady Helena, I beg of you, one moment. I think perhaps… perhaps the diadem is preventing you from moving on."

Helena froze. "I don't know what you mean," she whispered, but her hands clenched by her sides.

Stepping forward, he continued, "I think that perhaps you remain here within the castle, not passing on to a better afterlife because you wish your mother's diadem was in the castle. Because you feel guilty for removing it from here."

"I am not the one who should feel guilty," Helena said with a sniff.

Swallowing, Waldo ignored her jab. "Lady Helena, I can help restore what I took from you. I can allow you to have the life that you should have had… or at the very least, a life with your family and cherished ones."

"You and I both know that will not happen."

"I will find the diadem for you, my dear, and ensure its safe return to Hogwarts."

Helena lifted her chin and floated away from him. Waldo allowed her to go, unperturbed by her silence. If he found the diadem and returned it to Hogwarts, perhaps he would be able to alleviate any guilt she held—guilt that prevented her from moving on.

He waited until she had passed through the door of the Astronomy Tower before chasing after the rude youth who had enquired about the diadem. Waldo needed a physical body for this task, and although he could only remember the rough location of where he had found Helena before he mur—before that dreadful day, he knew he could find it. If the ruddy twit wanted a quest, then he would get one.

* * *

 _ **November 15, 1882**_

The scrawny Gryffindor boy had indeed become a daring knight. Just as he had sworn, he had also gone on many a quest, from slaying the Wyvern of Wye (supposedly) to conquering the hearts of three women. Unfortunately, the little runt had gotten himself killed in battle before he could even begin to fulfil his promise and search for the diadem. Now he sat on a squat little pony in his portrait in the Gryffindor tower.

Everyone else Waldo had oh-so-carefully selected from that point on also seemed to follow the same, abysmal pattern of failure, especially the Purebloods he preferred to ask. The Gryffindors were too bold and brash, heading directly into a line of danger, the Slytherins unsure that the value of the diadem outweighed any risk to their lives or time in retrieving it. Any Ravenclaws he had faith in believed their knowledge was better than whatever the so-called diadem could offer, often running back to Helena to laugh about his plans.

Waldo wouldn't give up, however. He was a Pureblood, a Slytherin, the Bloody Baron—he would not fail. He simply needed to change tactics and select a student more inclined to follow his orders without question.

Sighing, he now glided over to a chubby, red-haired girl sitting with her friends at the Hufflepuff table. He could hear her yapping on about some antique her father had recently purchased.

"Yes, yes, it was one of the first brooms ever used in Quidditch," she was saying.

Waldo rolled his eyes when the two girls next to the witch cooed in delight. The redhead seemed prone to impressing others and, by the way she lifted a hand to puff up her hair, she was also vain. It was a trait that made humans fickle, and one he could use to his advantage.

"Excuse me, ladies, might I have a word with this fine, young witch?" he asked, sitting down next to a brunette.

The girls turned to him, faces matching masks of horror. The brunette next to him squeaked.

"Alone?" he prompted.

"What-what do y-you want?" the red-haired girl asked after her friends scampered from the table.

"Well, my dear..."

"Hepzibah, Hepzibah Smith."

"What a lovely name!" Though the girl's eyes were still wide with fear, Waldo noticed her cheeks redden. "Well, my dear Hepzibah, I do believe you have a fine taste in magical objects, is that correct?"

The girl nodded.

"You know, you remind me of someone I used to know… Are you, perchance, related to Lady Helga Hufflepuff?"

Any trace of horror left the girl's face and she smiled, puffing out her chest. "Yes, I am her descendant."

Waldo nodded, already knowing this. He remembered the girl's sorting from seven years ago, confirming his suspicions with the Fat Friar after the ceremony. He turned his most charming smile on, causing the girl's blush to deepen.

"I happen to have a trinket of hers," she continued, gaining more courage. "Well, my father does. He has her cup, you know."

"My, my, how wonderful! You must have quite a few antiques, then?"

"My father and I collect rare objects; I just love history!"

"How extraordinary. I thought you looked like a smart, young woman," he said, watching her giggle. Leaning forward, he continued, "Yes, I was right. Would you like to hear a secret?"

A greedy glint lit up Hepzibah's blue eyes. Nodding, she said, "Yes, please."

Looking to both sides for good measure, Waldo whispered, "Alright, but you mustn't tell a soul."

"I won't!"

"Well, each of the Founders of Hogwarts had an object special to them, correct? What if I told you that I knew where Lady Ravenclaw's Lost Diadem is?"

"You do?"

"Oh yes, and I believe that if you bring it back to Hogwarts, you may keep it," he said.

The girl looked at him. A smile lit her round face, but he could see that she didn't quite believe him. "What's the catch?" she asked, licking her lips.

"My dear, I am an honourable man," he said, placing a hand over his heart. "The diadem is somewhere in a forest in Albania, but as you can see, I cannot possibly fetch it myself. I simply want to see it one last time."

Hepzibah's eyes softened. "Well, if I can keep it…"

"Yes, all I ask is that you bring it here first."

"Ok, yes, thank you, I'll find it!" she said. "You know, you're not as bad as everyone thinks."

Waldo's own smile almost faltered at her words, and he stood up. He knew that it was appalling to lie to this girl, yet he also knew he needed the diadem to set Helena free. If the girl could help him, he would find her a better reward later, perhaps some other antique trinket.

* * *

 _ **September 29, 1945**_

He would find the diadem if it was the last thing he did. Like all his other recruits, Hepzibah Smith inevitably failed him, forgetting about her task to go off and get married as soon as she graduated. He knew he should've trusted a Slytherin all along, but not just any Slytherin: a descendant of his old master, with a history of accomplishing difficult tasks.

"I won't lie, I have often sought the treasures of the Founders for myself. I also know that you are aware of that," the boy across from Waldo said, dark eyes glinting.

Waldo nodded, expecting nothing less of the boy; he knew Slytherins made it their priority to know all the facts. What Waldo had not expected was that the boy did not seem to care about any dangers involved with the task. From what he could remember, the forest in Albania was full of dark creatures eager to get their claws and fangs on any human stupid enough to wander into its midst. Nevertheless, the glint in the boy's eyes betrayed his determination to gain the diadem, and it was enough for him.

"Do we have a deal, then? You will fetch the diadem and return it to Hogwarts, for the simple price of gaining some knowledge?"

"I suppose we do. And The Grey Lady won't mind my asking for a few details?"

Waldo shifted in his seat. "With some persuasion," he said, sticking out his hand.

The boy before him nodded once and took his hand. It slipped through his, making it feel unnaturally heavy, but shook it anyway, sealing the promise.

* * *

 ** _September 1, 1949_**

After what seemed like decades, yet was only really a couple of years, the dark-eyed Slytherin had finally returned to Hogwarts. From the wink the boy had sent him before entering Headmaster Dippet's office—in front of which Waldo was now pacing, hands clasped behind his back—it seemed he had been successful in his quest.

Finally, the gargoyles guarding the Headmaster's office jumped aside again, and the boy came storming out.

"So? Where is it?" Waldo asked, following the boy as he marched down the hallway.

"That fool, he'll know better than to not hire me," the boy said, hands clenched by his sides. Waldo rolled his eyes, forgetting that the boy had a temper to rival his own. He allowed the boy to mutter a few more obscenities about Dippet under his breath, before placing a hand through his shoulder and stopping him.

"The diadem, did you retrieve it?" he asked.

The boy stopped and blinked, not having noticed that Waldo was there. Lifting his chin and taking a deep breath, the boy fixed his gaze on him.

"Of course, I did," he said.

"And? Tell me where it is, boy."

"Hidden."

"What?" Waldo glared at the boy. He hid it? How dare he be so insolent? His body began to shake, and it took all his resolve to not try to throttle him—assuming he could. "What good is that to me?"

The boy's smirk widened and he shrugged. Turning away, he continued his path through the castle. "I kept my promise. I found the diadem and returned it to Hogwarts."

Gritting his teeth, Waldo took out his sword. He charged forward, ready to strike down the dirty devil who dared defy him. With careful aim, he struck the centre of the boy's stomach. Unfortunately, he felt a familiar heavy sensation overwhelm his body, and before he knew it, he was hurtling onwards through the hallway. Coming to a halt, he whipped around, glaring back at the boy.

The boy only shivered, the smirk still on his face. With a raised eyebrow, he continued walking, leaving Waldo with the realisation that he had failed, yet again.

* * *

 **May 2, 1998**

Waldo bit his lip. The raven-haired boy and his two friends had been inside the mysterious room—one Waldo had not known existed until this point—for half an hour. Surely they had found the diadem by now? What was taking so long?

He jumped when a loud crashing noise interrupted his musings. Spinning towards the wall where the boy had disappeared, he saw five figures come hurtling out on what appeared to be singed broomsticks. The figures were all panting, ash covering their trembling frames.

Waldo didn't have time to worry about why they were in such a state, his eyes searching the raven-haired boy's form. The boy was clutching something round and black in his hand, and as he spoke to the other students, holding it up for them to see, Waldo gasped.

The boy had found the diadem!

His excitement didn't last long, however. Squinting, Waldo saw that the diadem was smeared with soot and a black tar dripped from it. When the boy touched it, it crumbled away. The diadem was destroyed, as was any hope he had left. How could Helena move on now, when he couldn't prove her mother's diadem was safe?

Shaking his head, he looked around, searching for a miracle. Unfortunately, he only found a familiar pair of grey eyes, full of pain, staring at him from across the hall.

Helena's expression said it all; she knew the diadem had been destroyed, and knew she would be confined here forever. Once again, it was all his fault.


End file.
